


Waiting For The Skies To Clear

by ImpishTubist



Series: come let the new child play [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Genderfluid Character, Kid Fic, Nonbinary Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 08:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist
Summary: For the sake of their child, Aziraphale and Crowley strike a compromise.





	Waiting For The Skies To Clear

**Author's Note:**

> A second chapter was added to the first fic in this series, so you may want to check that out before reading this installment. Title comes from Queen’s “Doing Alright.” 
> 
> Many thanks, as ever, to Alston <3

** _160 A.D._ **

This wasn’t the first child Crowley had ever looked after. 

She’d taken in half a dozen at one time or another over the centuries. It was never something she purposefully set out to do, but she could only look away from human misery and suffering for so long. Especially when it came to children, who didn’t deserve it. She might have been a demon, but she wasn’t _ cruel _. So here and there over the thousands of years she had been on this planet, she had sheltered the occasional orphan or abandoned child, nurtured them into adulthood, watched them grow old and die. She’d managed to do it all without drawing Hell’s attention--or Aziraphale’s.

This was different. This wasn’t a human child, for one thing. Unlike her, this baby required food and water and sleep, and they had a set of lungs and a heart and could be hurt as easily as a human. But they were growing far too slowly to _ be _human--at this rate, it could be thousands of years before they resembled an adult. 

Crowley wasn’t confident she could keep them hidden for that long. She certainly couldn’t continue to disregard her duties. Sooner or later, Hell would check up on her, though she tried to put it off for as long as possible. She moved frequently, traveling from village to village and continent to continent. The baby was wholly dependent on her still, couldn’t even eat solid foods yet, and she could only be gone from them for a few hours at a time. 

Eventually, despite her nomadic lifestyle, Hell’s missives started to find her. She took credit for humanity’s evils as often as she could, writing regular memos to the head office detailing the suffering on Earth and pretending it was her own doing. But she couldn’t rely on that forever, and eventually Hell had orders for her.

“You stay here, darling, and you stay _ quiet_,” she whispered one night. She brushed her lips over the baby’s forehead, and they fell asleep instantly as her powers willed them into a deep sleep. They would be safe in their crib for a few hours while she carried out these particular orders. “I’ll be back soon.” 

****

How did one go about locating a demon who didn’t want to be found? 

Aziraphale had been asking himself that question for almost half a century now. 

He spent the years chasing down every single whisper of a lead that reached his ears--whenever he heard about possible demonic activity, whenever there was a hint of a human being tempted, whenever he heard about a disaster that had resulted in a great loss of life, he hurried to that location as quickly as possible.

There was never any sign of Crowley.

He performed innumerable blessings and indulged in the occasional outlandish miracle, despite Gabriel’s warning, in hopes that it might attract the demon’s attention. He even got himself into scraps he knew he could get out of, in case Crowley ever decided to swoop in and save the day before Aziraphale had to take matters into his own hands. 

It never worked.

There was summoning, of course, but Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to resort to that. For one thing, that was a surefire way to attract the attention of both Heaven _ and _Hell. For another, he would never summon Crowley without the demon’s knowledge or consent. It felt too much like a violation. 

And now here he was, sitting on the outskirts of a small settlement in the dead of winter, wrapped snugly in furs that didn’t do enough to keep the chill out while he waited for his latest assignment to fall asleep. The fire in the center of the small settlement was still going strong; it could be hours yet before the clan leader retired to his tent. Aziraphale was supposed to give him divine visions in his dreams that would alter the course of his life and turn him into a prophetic leader, but right now all Aziraphale cared about was being dry and _ warm _. 

_ You always were a weak angel, _ he admonished himself. _ First you let a demon tempt you into sin, now you’re considering going against Her orders just because you’re bloody _cold. 

He got no further in his self-recrimination than that, because at that moment he caught a movement in his periphery. Nothing more than a shadow, but shadows didn’t move, and he knew when he started his watch that he had been alone.

The figure was fast, but Aziraphale had surprise on his side. They were making straight for the settlement, and Aziraphale caught a whiff of sulfur that burned his nostrils as he drew close. _ Demon_. 

He tackled the figure, slamming into them full-force and sending the both of them tumbling into the snow. At least it muffled the noise, and none of the humans in the settlement noticed the commotion.

Or that’s what he thought, until warning shouts reached his ears. He lifted his head and saw the humans running for their horses, lighting torches, and knew they would be upon him in mere moments.

“Oh, _ bless it_!” the demon under him cursed.

And then Aziraphale was blinking in hot, bright sunlight, still sprawled on top of the demon but clearly half a world away from where he’d been a moment ago. Wherever he’d been transported, it was the middle of the day, and the dry air told him he was in a desert. 

And the demon underneath him was Crowley.

She shoved at his shoulder with a gruff, “_Up _, angel, for Someone’s sake!” 

Aziraphale scrambled to his feet and offered a hand down to her, but she brushed it aside and stood.

“Thank you for that,” she snarled. “My first proper job from the head office in months, and you had to go fuck it up!”

“Did you expect me to stand by and let you interfere with _ my _job?” Aziraphale retorted. Crowley stared at him, and sighed. 

“We were sent the same target, weren’t we?”

“It appears that way. I was sent to deliver him some visions in his sleep.”

“I was sent to seduce him,” Crowley said. “Keep him up all night so he wouldn’t _ have _visions. That’s a botched job in both of our ledgers, then.”

“Will there be repercussions for you?”

Crowley shook her head. “I doubt it. Not yet, at least. I’ve been taking credit for some things, staying in Hell’s good...well, _ bad _graces. You?”

“Gabriel won’t be pleased,” Aziraphale said. “I can handle him.”

“Just don’t fuck up the next one, and you’ll be fine.” Crowley stared at him for a moment longer, and then said, “Well? On you get, angel. Don’t you have a blessings quota to fulfill or something?”

“Yes, well, you should get going as well. Don’t you have wiles to…” Aziraphale trailed off. “Oh.” 

Crowley tensed. “What?”

“You live here,” Aziraphale breathed. “This is--this is your _ home_.”

It was a small village, somewhere near the equator. Humans bustled around them, going about their daily business, and no one paid them any mind. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if that was his doing, or Crowley’s. 

“Will you take me to them?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley didn’t answer right away. “_ Please _. Crowley, it’s been a hundred and fifty years. I only want to see them.”

“No one knows about them,” Crowley said finally. “_No one_. Not my side, and not even any humans.”

“My side doesn’t know, either. Do you think I’d be standing before you now if they did?” 

Crowley stared at him for a while longer. Finally, her resolve seemed to crack. Her shoulders sagged.

“Fine,” she said. “Come with me.” 

****

Crowley’s hut was on the outskirts of the village, far from prying human eyes. She must have had the place warded--not heavily, not enough to draw attention from Downstairs, but enough that even Aziraphale’s eyes almost skipped over it. Humans undoubtedly never even saw that it was there.

It was warm inside the hut, far too warm for Aziraphale’s liking. A fire burned in the hearth, despite the hot midday sun. The baby must have inherited Crowley’s intolerance for the cold.

And there, in a thatched crib in the corner, lay the child.

They looked like any other human baby, aside from their ethereal markings. There was nothing particularly remarkable about them--they were rosy-cheeked and plump, and they made quiet snuffling noises in their sleep. 

Aziraphale made a movement toward the crib. Crowley swiftly intercepted him. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’d like to see them.”

“You can see them from right here.”

“Crowley--”

“You aren’t taking them from me!” Crowley was on him in an instant, her hands fisted into Aziraphale’s robes, crowding him against the wall. “Angel, I don’t know how much clearer I can be about this. I will burn Heaven, Hell, _ and _ Earth to the ground if you so much as _ think _about taking them from me. Do you understand that?” 

“Perfectly.” Crowley loosened her grip on Aziraphale and stepped back. Absurdly, Aziraphale found that he missed the contact, and immediately squashed the thought. “But I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not a _ threat _, Crowley. I won’t take them. I promise you. What can I do to get you to trust me?”

“What changed your mind?” Crowley asked. “If you _ don’t _want to take them to Heaven, then tell me why you’re here.”

“I’ve already explained--”

“You haven’t told me a blessed thing,” Crowley said. “Why should I trust _ you _?” 

Aziraphale wrung his hands. He hated this, hated having to voice out loud what had been tormenting him for fifty years, but if it would allow him to hold his baby…

“After our last meeting,” he said, “I was recalled to the head office. Annual performance review, you know how it is. I...didn’t measure up. Wasn’t doing enough smiting. Gabriel sent me to Anael, to see how it was done. He destroyed an entire village that night. Murdered children, for the sins of their parents. I thought...how easily that could have been my--our--child. And I don’t...I don’t want Heaven getting their hands on them any more than you do. Please, Crowley.”

Crowley melted, as she always did, under the intensity of Aziraphale’s gaze. She went over to the child and leaned over the crib.

“Hullo, dove,” she murmured, stroking a finger down the baby’s cheek. They stirred, making sleepy baby noises, and something in Aziraphale fluttered. “We’ve got a visitor, can you wake up for me? There’s a love.” 

Crowley scooped the babe out of the crib and nestled them in the crook of her arm. The movement was fluid, natural, and made Aziraphale _ ache_. He didn’t understand _ why_, it wasn’t as though Crowley had done anything particularly extraordinary, and yet...she _ had, _somehow.

“Sit down, angel,” she murmured, and Aziraphale took a seat on one of the cushions that littered the floor. Crowley took one next to him, just slightly out of reach, and that stung, too. 

“May I know their name?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

“Abel,” Crowley said after a moment, and that _ hurt_. The first child Crowley hadn’t been able to save.

“That’s lovely,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley settled Abel on her thighs, knees pressed together. The babe gurgled, then giggled as they made a grab for a lock of Crowley’s hair that had fallen in their face. 

“They like to grab things,” Crowley offered hesitantly, and it felt like the start of an olive branch being extended between them. Aziraphale said nothing, terrified to break the moment. “They don’t speak yet, or walk, but they’re crawling. Get into all sorts of mischief when I’m not watching, don’t you?”

She trailed off.

“They seem happy,” she said softly. “Always laughing, or smiling. Everything about this world delights them.”

“I know the feeling,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley nodded. “May I? Please.”

Slowly, carefully, Crowly scooped the babe up and gently transferred them to Aziraphale’s arms.

“Hold them like--yes, like that,” Crowley said, 

“I _ have _held children before, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a huff. Still, Crowley hovered at his shoulder, ready to snatch the child away the moment they seemed uncomfortable--or the moment Aziraphale made a move that Crowley didn’t like. He cupped a hand around the child’s head. “Oh, you’re beautiful.” 

Abel stared up at him with wide, impossibly blue eyes--eyes that were too familiar. Aziraphale felt a pang as he recognized them as his own. 

This child was _ his_. His creation.

Their shock of red hair was Crowley’s, through and through, but the curls were Aziraphale’s, as were their round, rosy cheeks. _ They look like you_, Crowley had said, and truly it was like looking at his own reflection. How could he ever have doubted that this child was his?

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, “how did this even happen?”

She snorted. “I’ve been wondering that myself for a hundred and fifty years. I have no idea, angel.” 

“This doesn’t happen when we’re with humans,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley shook her head. They’d both lain with innumerable humans over the centuries. None of those couplings had ever resulted in a child, and certainly not one who manifested overnight. 

Abel squirmed in his arms. Aziraphale pressed his nose to Abel’s hair and breathed. This was his _ baby_. He had created _ life_. There were too many emotions simmering just beneath the skin of his corporation, so many he feared he might burst. Surely his body wasn’t meant to hold this many feelings at once. 

He wondered if this was how She felt, every time she gazed upon Her beloved creations.

“Do they have any powers?” 

“Not that I’m aware of yet,” Crowley said. “Doesn’t mean powers of some kind won’t manifest later on. For now, they just have the markings.” 

Abel stretched, pudgy arms reaching for the sky, and the knuckled their eyes. Then they opened their mouth, and let out a wail that caused Aziraphale to nearly jump clear out of his corporation.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, slightly panicked. “What have I done?”

“_Relax_, angel, they’re only hungry. Come on, give them to me.” 

Crowley shifted her robes, exposing a breast, and Aziraphale handed Abel over. They immediately latched on and began to nurse. He knew Crowley changed forms as often as she did hairstyles, sometimes multiple times in a single day. Hell would know that, too, and think nothing of it, whereas they would have become immediately suspicious about a demon miracling bottles of milk into existence several times a day. One of the many ways she had managed to keep their child hidden. 

“They’ll grow out of this at some point,” Crowley said, and she sounded a tad weary. “Maybe in another fifty years, at the rate they’re growing. Human mothers only have to put up with this for a year or so, can you imagine?”

For a while, there was no sound except for the suckling babe. 

“I want to see them.” 

“I take it you mean on a regular basis, since you’re seeing them right now,” Crowley said dryly. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Abel, and ran a long finger down their cheek. They gazed up at her, blue eyes full of _ something _ that made Aziraphale’s heart tug. 

“Yes.” 

“No.”

“Crowley, _ please_.”

“You have seen them. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? What other interest do you have in them, if not to take them to Heaven?”

“They’re my child, too.” Abel had worked one of their arms free of the blankets and waved it in the air. Aziraphale caught the tiny hand, letting Abel wrap it around his finger. There were gold markings on their arm, tiny lines that snaked up to their shoulder. “They’re angelic as much as they are demonic.” 

“What a legacy,” Crowley murmured bitterly.

“I want to be a part of their life,” Aziraphale insisted. “I want to help bring them up. We’re mortal enemies, you and I, but I believe we’ve found some...common ground, as it were, over the years.”

He lowered his voice, and added, “And you need someone on your side, Crowley. Both of our head offices will not be pleased when--_ if _ they find out about this child. You can only hide them for so long on your own. Together...we may have a chance. _ Abel _may have a chance.” 

Crowley finished feeding the baby, burped them, and cradled them while they drifted off again. 

“I’ll find you,” she said finally. “Don’t come looking for us, or I’ll make sure that you’ll never see them again. But as often as I’m able, I’ll find you.” 

Aziraphale knew it was the best he was going to get. He didn’t doubt Crowley’s willingness or ability to follow through on the threat. 

“Yes, alright,” he said. He got to his feet, sensing now that he had more than outstayed his welcome. Crowley rose as well. Abel remained fast asleep. One of their arms had fallen free of the blankets. Aziraphale tucked it back into place, securing the blanket around them. Then, on a whim, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Abel’s forehead. 

“I’ll see you soon, sweetling.”


End file.
